


everything we never had (we had it all)

by grxffin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Brainwashed!Bellamy, F/M, Memory Alteration, Welcome to Bardo, void!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24698833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grxffin/pseuds/grxffin
Summary: Bellamy Blake should have died a long time ago.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	everything we never had (we had it all)

Bellamy Blake should have died a long time ago. He knows this.

Even after all this time and despite the man he is now, he knows that the blood of countless lives still stains his hands in the same way it did years ago - back at Mount Weather, back when killing grounders with Pike was like a sport to him.

Karma should have caught up with him by now and balanced the scales, he knows this. For all the lives he has taken, the things he has done, Bellamy should be dead.

Accepting it for what it is has bought him some comfort but he knows it’s just a matter of time; he understands that karma has been nipping at his heels his whole life.

Bellamy Blake’s fight should be over, deserves to be over, but for some reason it isn’t just yet.

* * *

When he awakes it’s to nothing but white. Bright, clinical and unnatural; enough to hurt his eyes and cause him to pull them shut again just for a moment. He feels nauseous, the smell of the air around him sterile and wrong.

Bellamy opens his eyes once again after a beat to find himself strapped to a chair, reclined with his wrists and ankles bound. A cannula is pushed into the crease of his arm, pumping a black liquid into his body - he wonders for a second if it could be nightblood but dismisses the thought quicker than it appeared.

He needs to get out, he realises, the thought of being trapped suddenly dawning on him and making him feel like a caged animal. His body treats the thought the same it would a punch to the gut, waking him up with a shot of adrenaline. There’s an impending feeling in his chest that lingers and has done since he woke up - like there’s something he needs to do, someone he needs to find.

A memory comes to him, blurred around the edges and he remembers shouting for Octavia, something happened - he can’t recall what but the feeling of panic and dread remains, he needs to find his sister.

Bellamy tries to thrash at first, his natural response, arms and shoulders tensing against their restraints as he grits his teeth and begins to yell. Something is not right. He knows he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be.

“Bellamy Blake,” a voice comes from behind him, he feels a hand touch his shoulder in a bid to calm his thrashing. “Welcome to Bardo. I’m Hermes.”

Hermes, Greek God of Shepard’s and thieves, Bellamy thinks for a second. He doesn’t respond and only continues to try and break free, figures that this is some welcome if he ever experienced one.

“There’s no use in tiring yourself out,” the voice all but tuts, like Bellamy is a child, petulant and out of control. “You’re only hurting yourself, look,” something strokes the skin on his arm where the cannula needle meets his vein, it’s wet. “Look what you’ve done.”

Bellamy pauses as a gloved hand is held up against the light, showing him the crimson liquid that must be seeping from his arm. He wishes he could bring himself to care but he can’t, can’t focus on anything else but getting out of this place.

This can’t be his due dose of karma, he tells himself; this can’t be how he dies, not when he has to find his sister and get back home, back to Clarke and -

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” His thoughts are thrown off track when Hermes' masked figure comes into his view, leaning over him. Their mask is blank, void of expression and mirror-like; it takes Bellamy a second to recognise himself in its reflection and the image almost shocks him. He looks disheveled, his hair wild and his eyes blown and feral. “We knew you would be feisty but, wow.”

They laugh at him, hollow and mocking. He can’t read the persons expression but he doesn’t need to. Bellamy can tell that whoever this is, they are not one bit concerned about Bellamy escaping or loosening his restraints. He needs to take a different approach. All heart and no head as per usual, he thinks. Slow down, breathe, assess the situation.

His eyes search the room for a way out and he notices that the walls of this space are covered with screens, each one seemingly showing some sort of surveillance. Images flicker in front of him showing different places, different people — his people.

“What do you want?” Bellamy asks aloud finally, the words leaving his mouth with a croak. “How do you know who -“

He interrupts himself with a sharp intake of breath through his teeth, suddenly the cannula in his arm is being pulled out and it scratches enough for him to hiss.

“What we want is of no relevance, dear child,” Hermes answers, almost shrugging at Bellamy’s question as they pull the needle from his arm. They toy with it for a moment before discarding it and bringing a new one to his arm. “As for how we know who you are, well - that too is of no relevance but I suppose I can divulge you for a little bit before we get to work.”

The needle sinks into his arm again before he can ask what they mean by that, puncturing the same wound without much care. Bellamy closes his eyes with a wince, reminding himself to stay calm and slow his breathing. If he focuses hard enough he’s pretty sure that he can feel the warmth of his blood cascading down his arm, can hear the drip of it as it falls to the floor beneath him.

“We’ve been watching you for some time Bellamy.” Hermes continues, stepping away from him and beginning to slowly pace the room. “Truth is, we’ve watched you and your companions since you stepped foot on the earth all those years ago. One hundred of you, wasn’t there?”

He feels panicked at the thought - the thought of someone following them all this time, someone witnessing the things they’ve done and been through. He feels sick, how could they not have noticed that?

“Watching from a far can only convey so much though, don’t you agree?” Hermes continues, gliding in the direction of the screen in front of Bellamy, they seem to be looking down at a control panel, doing something he can’t quite view. “I prefer a front row seat sometimes, it just enhances the experience so much more.”

The screen in front of him fades to black before an image is cast across it; it’s Clarke, clad in a space suit and looking directly through the screen. She is back at Becca’s lab before Praimfaya, before they left her, before -

“You’ve got such a big heart, Bellamy,” she says, her voice coming through the speakers in the room and her eyes glassy with emotion. His heart threatens to break his rib cage, he starts to tense against his restraints again.

“What is this?” He asks Hermes, their back still turned to him as they too face the screen and watch this unfold. He wants to rip them away, stop them. “Hey!”

“People follow you,” Clarke continues, her voice bouncing off the walls, “you inspire them because of this.”

Clarke brings her hand towards the screen and he knows that she places it on his chest because — this is his memory. This happened to him, he has replayed this image enough times to know. How are they seeing this too?

He doesn’t understand and he suddenly can’t begin to assess anything - he wants nothing more than to tear off the restraints with his teeth, his blood boils as he begins to shout. “What the hell is this?”

“I’m just toying with you,” Hermes answers, almost sounding amused by his torment as they bring their hand down to the control panel and bring the screen to a pause. “I’m just trying to convey the full range of our capabilities - I want you to understand just how much we see. I suppose showing you such a painful memory was a cruel move, I apologise.”

Bellamy ignores their comment and continues to look at the paused image in front of him, his chest rising and falling much too quick. He knows this memory all too well; he spent six years on the ring replaying it in his mind and wishing he had said more, done more. His chest aches at that thought.

Clarke’s blue eyes stare back at him through the screen; paused, motionless and endlessly beautiful. He wonders if she’s safe, prays she is.

“Clarke is fine,” Hermes' voice says from behind the mask as if hearing his thoughts. Bellamy wonders if they can. If they can easily access his memories and watch his people for all these years then it’s entirely possible. “She’s not even noticed that you’ve gone, you know. Typical Clarke, right?”

He doesn’t answer them; he knows her. He knows she will come when she finds out.

There’s a few moments of silence after that point, Hermes seemingly busying themselves at the control panel while Bellamy tries to formulate a scenario in his head in which he gets out of this. He doesn’t know what they want, what his memories mean or why they’ve been watching his family for over 100 years. He doesn’t know and he isn’t sure he wants to.

“Do you not have anything to say?” Hermes asks him, their back still turned to Bellamy. “Nothing you wish to know?”

Bellamy keeps his mouth closed and his breath steady.

“That’s a shame, I imagined you more talkative.”

“You know nothing about me,” Bellamy answers, his voice quiet. “So you can access a memory and you have some surveillance footage. That tells me nothing.”

Hermes laughs at that, at him. They turn to face him now, Bellamy can picture the smirk they must have beneath the mask when they continue. “Bellamy Blake. Brother to Octavia Blake. Your girlfriend is an Azgedan spy whom you entered a relationship with out of necessity, loneliness.”

“You have no idea who I am.”

“We know enough,” they reply, “we know enough to understand that you’re the man we need for the job at hand, the man that should be sat in that chair.”

“If you need information on Sanctum, I’m not your guy,” Bellamy admits, his neck cramping from where his forehead is strapped to the head of the chair. His body feels tired, no doubt due to the liquid they’re forcing into him. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Sanctum?” Hermes questions, coming closer and pulling up a stool to prop themselves down next to Bellamy’s reclined body. “You think that we went to the trouble of travelling through time and space, taking you in the way that we did and bringing you to an entirely different planet - because of Sanctum?”

He wants to shake his head in response, question further, learn more but he can’t bring himself to open his mouth. He can feel his muscles grow paralysed and he can’t even find the effort to panic.

“Dear boy. You are here to serve the Shepard, to join our group of Disciples and destroy the one they call Wanheda.”

Bellamy can’t even retort to their words or begin to fathom what he’s just heard. His eyes growing tired and his tongue becoming heavy in his mouth within seconds.

“I will say though, what you lack in knowledge you certainly make up for in strength,” Hermes continues, reaching over Bellamy’s body and tapping the needle that’s lodged into his arm. “This stuff should’ve made you incoherent some time ago now. You’re putting up a good fight.”

And almost as if that’s his cue, Bellamy’s head begins to spin; his bones melting into the chair as he looks across at the masked face that sits so close to his. He wishes he could reach over and rip it off.

He wishes he could do so much, anything at all in fact. He has so much he needs to know, so much fight that he wants to give but as the room turns from white to nothing he realises that he’s going to have to wait for that. He doesn’t have much choice.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!
> 
> This is my first published piece of writing on these two lovebirds, everything else I've written has never seen the light of day but I thought this could be fun. 
> 
> This is a WIP but will be multi-chaptered and very angsty so buckle up.
> 
> All the buzz surrounding the possibility of us getting void!bellamy on twitter lead me to write this so, please feel free to DM if you want to mutually freak out over that.
> 
> Twitter: blarke_
> 
> Chloe x


End file.
